Lakeside Death
by Svensk Flicka
Summary: Though this isn't exactly CSI, it's based loosely on it, so I figured this category would work. In case the title doesn't make it obvious enough, this is a murder mystery sort of short story. Ahem, let me ammend that. VERY short story.
1. Chapter 1

Lakeside Death

Fog drifted over the surface of the gently lapping waves while the golden globe of the sun set along the dusky horizon. Kiara looked out the window of her lake house, past a craggy boulder on the near shore of the lake to the malevolent looking clouds floating above the dark mountainous figure behind the water. She shuddered and pulled her sweater about her shoulders more tightly.

"I'm glad we're not going to be out in that storm," Kiara remarked to Rochester, her devoted golden retriever, as she ran her fingers through her long blonde tresses. He merely set his melancholy amber eyes upon her in reply. "It sure makes for a lovely sunset, though, doesn't it, Rochester?" Kiara took her gaze off the dog and returned it to the window, once again. "Hmm," she murmured. "What's that?" She squinted to try and make out the shape moving across the water. "I think it's a boat, boy; someone's rowing past that little rock on the far side of the lake. I wonder what they could be doing on that part of the lake at this hour?" she mused aloud, her jade eyes sparkling with curiosity like the light playing across the face of the water all around the sun's tawny reflection.


	2. Chapter 2

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The next morning, Kiara awoke to loud, incessant knocking on the door to her walled-in winter porch. She noticed several cars parked erratically outside on the snowy driveway as she rose and got dressed, preparing to answer the knocks.

"I know, boy, just calm down," Kiara urged Rochester as he whined and pawed at the screen door. She pushed his wriggling fulvous body out of the doorway and opened the door. Rusty Lewencheck, Egret Lake's resident sheriff, and several grave-looking men in dark suits, promptly greeted her.

"Sorry to wake you this early, Miss Andërson, but I'm afraid we have an emergency on our hands," Sheriff Lewencheck apologized, drawling slightly. He took off his hat and motioned at the men standing stiff behind him.

"These men are from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have good reason to believe that Charles Adam Edwards, an escaped inmate from Denver, has kidnapped a young woman and is hiding out somewhere around this lake." One of the dark-suited men stepped forward and opened his shiny patent leather briefcase, revealing two glossy black and white photos; one of a gruff older man, and another of smiling girl who appeared to be in her late teens.

"I, uh, what is it that you need, gentlemen?" Kiara stuttered as she stared at the gleaming badge the man with the briefcase flashed at her.

"Simply to know whether or not you have seen anyone or anything out of the ordinary lately," he answered without a single change in his grayish countenance. His steel eyes remained unblinking and cold, even as he spoke.

"Well," Kiara began, stooping to pet Rochester's head for comfort, "I did see someone rowing out on the far side of the lake last night. I noticed because rarely do any of us who live here on the lake go boating at night; that's too dangerous. Plus, whoever it was was out around Duncan's Point, where all the kids used to jump off. No one goes there anymore, so "Ro" and I mused over the little dinghy's presence most of the night. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you, gentlemen." The tall man in the charcoal suit looked up at her on the porch steps.

"Thank you. If you have any additional information, call this number," he advised, handing her a card. Kiara nodded and went back inside while the sizable troop of men paraded down the stony, snow-covered walk to their cars.

"Intriguing," remarked Kiara as she let the curtain fall back into place after the last vehicle had filed out of her driveway.


	3. Chapter 3



The tall blonde walked over to the oak bookshelf in the den and picked up an old, well-used book.

"Hmm," she mused, examining the cover. "What would Nancy Drew do?" Kiara jumped, startled, when Rochester barked, as if in reply to her query. "You're right, boy," she said decisively. "Let's go investigate!" The dog leapt to her side, nearly knocking the door down in excitement. "Now Rochester," she scolded him with a British accent and an air of affectedness, "we must retain possession of our sangfroid if we are to be detectives." She laughed and patted his downy dome. "It's scary how much I sound like Mother sometimes, isn't it?" As she pulled the door closed and locked it, Kiara glanced quickly over her shoulder into the frigid, snow-flaked forest behind her home. Something appeared amiss, but it was just beyond the borders of her cognizance. "Everything in situ, and yet… not," she muttered before crunching through the partially packed snow near her back door. The dog and his mistress traipsed through the white woods, pausing every now and again to peer at some animal's spoor or to investigate a smoky shadow.

When the pair finally reached the lake, Kiara looked about and sighed.

"Nothing, "Ro", we've seen absolutely nothing," she murmured dismally. "I guess that that's a good thing, though. I mean, if we did happen to spot a clue or two, then Mother would have a satisfactory reason to bring us back to Denver, for our own "safety". I suppose we can at least enjoy the sunset while we're here, eh, old boy?" She wiped off a snowy bench and sat down, the faithful retriever at her feet. For a few minutes, the two simply sat in silence, gazing at the colored sky above the tarn. The stillness was broken, however, by a misty figure rounding Duncan's Point. "The boat!" Kiara hissed as she rose rapidly, "It's back!" She watched as it pulled into a small inlet near her neighbor's dock. "That's not Reggie's boat…" she observed tensely. She and Rochester quickly made their way back to the house, thoughts of a murderous kidnapper filling the head of the human.


	4. Chapter 4



"Oh, where is that card?" Kiara grumbled as she nearly ransacked her house in search of the FBI agent's business card. Rochester looked on placidly. By the time she found it, nearly twenty minutes had passed. Still determined to report what she had witnessed, however, Kiara dialed the phone number printed on the miniscule piece of paper. A man answered on the first ring.

"Etherly here. Who is this?" the voice barked.

"Uh, hi… This is Miss Andërson, from Egret Lake. We spoke yesterday," Kiara said, her voice quavering with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. As soon as she had finished speaking, she could almost hear the man's lips curve into a smile.

"Ah, yes, Egret Lake, I remember. What are you calling in regards to, Miss Andërson?" he said, more softly this time.

"Well," she began, closing her eyes to picture the scene more vividly. "I was out walking with my dog this evening-"

"You were outside after we warned you about Mr. Edwards?" the agent interrupted, worry evident in his voice.

"Yes…" Kiara repeated. "I was with my dog, though. Anyway, I saw that boat out on the lake again, but this time, it docked in Reggie's, excuse me, Mr. Prescott's inlet."

"That's very interesting, Miss Andërson. We will be upon the matter immediately. From now on, however, please stay indoors, for your own safety," he advised forcefully.

"For my own safety? Who does he think he is, my mother?" Kiara fumed, rolling her eyes as she hung up the telephone. "I'll do whatever I jolly well please to, safe or not." She opened a cupboard and began to indignantly prepare Rochester's dog food. After eating her own supper, she walked upstairs and read herself to sleep, leaving a lamp glowing pleasantly to ease her overwrought nerves.


	5. Chapter 5



Kiara awoke with a violent start.

"Something is not right!" she murmured, quoting her childhood heroine, Miss Clavelle. She sat up ramrod straight, an almost inaudible noise vibrating in her eardrums. "Rochester! Where are you?" she cried, her voice trembling in fear. The frightened woman clutched the bed sheets to her chest, her heart thumping, as she watched the steadfast dog pad his way up the stairs. He wagged his tail comfortingly and jumped onto her bed. "Good dog, good dog," she murmured, more to reassure herself than Rochester. Slowly, Kiara's heart-rate returned to a pace more akin to normal, and she drifted back into sleep, albeit rather fitful sleep.

When she arose the next morning, she was greeted with alarming disarray; her belongings were all strewn about the first floor. Goosebumps pricked her flesh as she inspected the mess that encompassed the majority of her living space.

"So that's what I heard last night…" she thought aloud. After going against her hygienic nature and leaving the clutter lying all over the floor, Kiara broke down and called Agent Etherly. He materialized, seemingly, the instant she replaced the phone in its cradle.

"Thank you for not disturbing the scene, Miss Andërson. Even the slightest interference could be devastating," he stated gently.

"Well, don't worry, I haven't touched a thing, though it's nearly killed me not to," she replied rather sarcastically. He smiled.

"Again, thank you. This may very well be of utmost importance." He turned and began to question the technicians processing the crime scene.

When all the fingerprint dust had been swept away, and the forensics team had left, Kiara sat down in her favorite easy chair, next to the fireplace, and breathed a sigh of exhaustion.


End file.
